


Spitting Lyrics

by Niler



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 13:51:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7804321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niler/pseuds/Niler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn's about to spill the tea</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spitting Lyrics

**Author's Note:**

> fluff (which will be added to as and when)

 

 

 

“ ’And that’s when I knew this was going to be a fucking nightmare…’ ”

Zayn shrugs without looking at him. “And?”

“Can you say that?”

“What?”

“That you hated us from day 1.” He looks down at Zayn, Zayn looks up at him. “Okay, okay, but it’s obviously going to be harsh.”

Another shrug. “ _You_ wanna write it, bro?”

“Okay then.”

“Fuck off.”

Grinning, Liam returns his attention to the screen. “ ‘I wouldn’t say I hated him at first sight, but I could tell he was a stuck up middle-class kid, who obviously thought he was a cut above the rest of us.’ Well, fair dos I can’t argue with that. He was a bit of a tit at first. Okay, let’s see what you say about me…”

“I ain’t got there yet, babe.”

Liam frowns. “It’s page fucking 20, Zayn. What you been doing all this time?”

“Setting the fucking scene?”

“Not being funny, but you think people _want_ to know about your childhood and that? Just saying, babe.”

“You wanna write it?”

“I already told you – yeah I do.”

“Fuck off.”

“Why not, though? I was there.”

“I know, but I don’t want it to be all nicey nice nice.”

“Hey! I’m not gonna make it ‘nicey nice nice’!”

“I know, cos you ain’t getting near it!”

Liam rolls his eyes before turning back to the draft Zayn had allowed him to look over. “So what you said so far?”

“You want a summary?”

“Actually, no, I wanna read it.”

“In a nutshell: I was born, grew up cool, met some dickheads and bang! we’re up to date.”

“No idea how I put up with you. Scroll down a bit…”

“I can’t scroll down – we’re bang up to date, meaning that’s it – all I wrote.” He gives him a look. “Wasn’t you listening?”

“No, I got really distracted by you thinking you was cool. You wasn’t cool.” He shakes his head. “Did not realize this was fiction, man.” He expected (and was ready to dodge) the elbow in the midriff, but Zayn cheated him by going for the sneaky stomp on the foot instead. “Ouch! You just broke my toe.”

“Whatever.” He’s peering at the screen because though he’s a little short-sighted refuses to wear his glasses unless he absolutely has no choice.

“Where are your specs?”

“No.”

“I still don’t understand why you won’t wear them.”

“Fuck off, babe.”

Liam smiles. He doesn’t know anyone else who can say something like that in such a loving way. Putting both arms around Zayn he leans in and nuzzles his neck.

“What you after?” he demands.

“Stupid question, babe.” He places a precise kiss on the underside of Zayn’s jaw. There’s tension in Zayn’s body, but it’s a tension with which Liam’s wholly familiar. He nibbles gently on his left ear. “Am I distracting you?”

“I’m not letting you write any of it.”

“Of course not, babe.”

Zayn says nothing.

  
**

“See, I _knew_ you’d do that!”

“What?”

“Make it nice.”

“I’ve just described Niall!”

“ ‘He was small, funny and Scottish. He had a talent for talking to anyone - anywhere, anytime - and may have been the most popular member of the band.’”

“And what the fuck’s wrong with that?”

“Budge up.”

“Zayn! You promised.”

“I said I’d edit and guess what? I’m editing!”

“But I’ve only written a couple of lines. How are you going to edit already when I haven’t even started yet?”

Zayn snorts. “You tell _me_!”

“No, that’s unfair, man. At least let me _write_ something first!”

“It’s not what I’m after. I told you I didn’t want it to be nice.”

“So you do want it to be fiction then.”

Zayn sighs and Liam can’t help feeling like he used to when his English teacher tried to explain why constructing a sentence a certain way made perfect sense and the way he’d constructed his sentence absolutely did not. “Yes, and no. I want to spit truth but I want to mix it up so much that you’re not gonna know when it’s fact or fiction. I told you. Didn’t I?”

“Not really, Zayn. You’ve been a bit…”

“I know, babe. Sorry.” He kisses him – warm, apologetic. “Let’s work together – properly.”

Reaching for him Liam invites another kiss.

They work well together; he doesn’t know why Zayn’s being funny about this, but it doesn’t matter now. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

**

  
“He was gnome-like with feet that looked like they should be on the end of a six year old’s legs. His hair was rumoured to be in a long-term romantic relationship with the Just For Men bottle and his fondness for low cut t-shirts verged on the perverse - or perverted. The first time I saw him I knew he was a prick, but I had to keep that to myself. It was obvious he was the sort of dickhead who’d have a sixth sense for when people didn’t like him and would relish sneakily getting back at you for it. The first thing he said to me was: ‘are you sure you’re in the right place? You haven’t wandered in from the Channel 4 documentary studio by accident…’ Dickhead. Maybe he thought I didn’t get what he was saying-‘ Hold on. Please tell me that did not really happen.”

Zayn shrugs. “Nah, he didn’t say that, but tell me he wouldn’t if he thought he could get away with it.”

“ _Tell_ me he didn’t say that.” Liam’s not even trying to control the anger thundering through him.

“Cool it, babe. It’s done. Don’t let it get to you.”

“So he _did_ say it!”

“Liam, calm down. He didn’t say it, I’m making it up - using my artistic licence. Okay, babe? It’s okay.”

But Zayn’s attempt to calm him doesn’t work. It has the opposite effect if anything. “I swear to god…”

“Okay, step away from the laptop. No, I mean it. Let’s go play with the boys.”

“Zayn…” But he allows Zayn to take him by the elbow, and lead him toward the patio.

He is seething, and knows full well that there is no way he’s going to let this go…

  
**

 

“ ‘He was from Lancashire, like me, but we had nothing in common apart from that. He was loud, brash and generally dressed like a prat-‘ ” Zayn looks at him. “Seriously, bro?”

“It’s _fiction_ , remember? Aren’t I allowed to have some fun with this?”

“But Lancashire? You’ve decided I’m from Lancashire?”

“Well, saying Yorkshire would make it too on top, wouldn’t it? Go on.”

“I’ll let it go for now, but trust me it won’t be Lancashire!”

“Zayn, what else could it be? You don’t want to be a southerner, you don’t want to be from the Midlands… what, you want to be from the Midlands?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way myself, but that would make it a bit less obvious. I suppose. Oh here we go…”

“What?” Liam knows the wideness of his grin is more than something so insignificant really warrants, but can he help it if it gives him a little thrill to imagine being that close to Zayn ( yeah, the Midlands is a big place but its closer than bloody Yorkshire)?

“You know what.” He looks exasperated but Liam notices that he doesn’t take it back, doesn’t decide that he definitely would rather not be from the Midlands… “ ‘He had a unique way of singing and for someone who did have such a unique way of singing was way too confident with himself.’ Bro.”

“Fiction, remember?” He meets Zayn’s stare without blinking. “Go on.”

“ ‘What I noticed almost straight away was the way he kept trying to get next to me. I wasn’t particularly interested in being friends with him, yet he attached himself to me like an ugly pink limpet with massive suckers that-‘ Okay, bro, stop.

“What?” But he’s laughing now. “I thought you liked slick prose.”

“Is that what that was?”

“Unfair. I thought it was pretty good myself.”

“Just as well you don’t have final say then.”

“Ooh burn. You sure we’re married?”

“Oh we’re married alright. Why else would I put up with you?” He’s staring at the screen. “ ‘I didn’t know how to shake him off. Every where I’d go there he’d be. It got to the point where I’d have to look under my bed of a night just to make sure he hadn’t followed me and hidden himself in my room…’” Zayn looks pained. “Bro…”

“What? You know it’s true.”

“There is the teeniest grain of truth, but talk about exaggeration! We can’t make it seem far-fetched, babe. That would defeat the object.”

“Truth is stranger than fiction they say.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “You heard yourself, bro?”

“What? Am I wrong?”

“Frequently.”

“Not this time. Truth _is_ often stranger than fiction. Look at us for a start.”

“Us us or us the band?”

Liam shrugs. “Either or. I mean any way you cut it what happened and the way it happened if anyone wrote that as a piece of fiction people would say it was far-fetched. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“What, you’re not tired of hearing that yet?”

“Ha ha. No it’s true, though, you got to admit.”

Zayn’s slight shrug is the only acknowledgement he gives. “ ‘I thought about confronting him but it was obvious he was a mardy, prickly bastard and wouldn’t ever admit to anything, just make a scene. James seemed like a good person to talk to so I considered confiding in him.’” Zayn looks at him. “James?”

“Well, I did consider Brett or maybe even Dalton, but I knew you’d chuck those out.” Zayn’s still staring at him. “What?”

“ _Dalton_? Seriously?”

“And that’s why it’s James. Go on, it gets really good here.”

“Not sure.”

“What? You haven’t even read it yet!”

“About James.”

“But you always told me you loved that name!” Zayn calls him J all the time, so he knows he does. Why’s he being so awkward all of a sudden?

“Nah, I don’t like it. Think of something else.”

“Dalton.”

“Funny.”

“But I got used to James,” he pouts. “This is messing up my flow.”

Zayn’s snort is unsympathetic. “Sorry bout that, babe. Let’s see if we can get your flow restored in a bit.”

“Ai ai, steady on, mate, you only _just_ restored my flow. You _really_ think you’re up to it?”

“Not gonna work, bro.”

Liam’s shrug suggests exactly how seriously he takes that…

 


End file.
